Bird Calls

[Flutterby]

Click on the bird's name to hear it's call. Scroll down to below the map and you will find a list of recordings.

Albatross, Black-browed
Albatross, Shy
Albatross, Southern Royal
Albatross, Wandering
Apalis, Bar-throated
Apalis, Rudd’s
Apalis, Yellow-breasted
Avocet, Pied

Babbler, Arrow-marked
Babbler, Southern Pied
Barbet, Acacia Pied
Barbet, Black-collared
Barbet, Crested
Batis, Cape
Batis, Chinspot
Batis, Pririt
Bee-eater, Blue-cheeked
Bee-eater, European
Bee-eater, Little
Bee-eater, Southern Carmine
Bee-eater, Swallow-tailed
Bee-eater, White-fronted
Bishop, Southern Red
Bishop, Yellow
Bittern, Eurasian
Bittern, Little
Blackcap
Bokmakierie
Boubou, Southern
Boubou, Tropical
Broadbill, African
Brubru
Buffalo-weaver, Red-billed
Bulbul, African Red-eyed
Bulbul, Cape
Bulbul, Dark-capped
Bunting, Cape
Bunting, Cinnamon-breasted
Bunting, Golden-breasted
Bunting, Lark-like
Bush-shrike, Gorgeous
Bush-shrike, Grey-headed
Bush-shrike, Orange-breasted
Bustard, Black-bellied
Buzzard, Jackal
Buzzard, Lizard

Camaroptera, Green-backed
Camaroptera, Grey-backed
Canary, Black-throated
Canary, Brimstone
Canary, Cape
Canary, Forest
Canary, Yellow
Canary, Yellow-fronted
Chaffinch, Common
Chat, Ant-eating
Caht, Buff-streaked
Chat, Familiar
Cisticola, Croaking
Cisticola, Desert
Cisticola, Levaillant’s
Cisticola, Rattling
Cisticola, Zitting
Cliff-chat, Mocking
Coot, Red-knobbed
Coucal, Black
Coucal, Burchell’s
Coucal, Sengal
Courser, Double-banded
Crake, Black
Crane, Blue
Crane, Grey Crowned
Crombec, Long-billed
Crow, Cape
Crow, Pied
Cuckoo, African
Cuckoo, Diderick
Cuckoo, Great Spotted
Cuckoo, Jacobin
Cuckoo, Klaas’s
Cuckoo, Levaillant’s
Cuckoo, Red-chested
Cuckooshrike, Black
Curlew, Eurasian


Darter, African
Dove, Laughing
Dove, Lemon
Dove, Namaqua
Dove, Red-eyed
Dove, Rock
Drongo, Fork-tailed
Drongo, Square-tailed
Duck, African Black
Duck, Comb
Duck, Fulvous
Duck, White-faced
Duck, Yellow-billed
Dunlin

Eagle, African Crowned
Eagle, Booted
Eagle, Lesser Spotted
Eagle, Long-crested
Eagle, Martial
Eagle, Steppe
Eagle, Wahlberg’s
Eagle-owl, Cape
Eagle-owl, Spotted
Eagle-owl, Verreaux’s
Egret, Cattle
Egret, Great
Egret, Little
Eremomela, Burnt-necked.
Eremomela, Yellow-bellied

Falcon, Amur
Falcon, Lanner
Falcon, Peregrine
Falcon, Red-footed
Finch, Cut-throat
Finch, Red-headed
Firefinch, African
Firefinch, Jameson’s
Firefinch, Red-billed
Fiscal, Common
Fish-eagle, African
Fishing-owl, Pel’s
Flamingo, Greater
Flycatcher, African Dusky
Flycatcher, Ashy
Flycatcher, Fiscal
Flycatcher, Pale
Flycatcher, Southern Black
Flycatcher, Spotted
Francolin, Coqui
Francolin, Crested
Francolin, Grey-winged
Southern, Fulmar

Gannet, Cape
Garganey
Giant-Petrel, Northern
Giant-Petrel, Southern
Go-away Bird, Grey
Godwit, Bar-tailed
Godwit, Black-tailed
Goose, Egyptian
Goose, Spur-winged
Goshawk, African
Goshawk, Gabar
Goshawk, Southern Pale-chanting
Grassbird, Cape
Ground-hornbill, Southern
Grebe, Great Crested
Grebe, Little
Greenbul, Sombre
Greenbul, Yellow-bellied
Greenshank, Common
Guineafowl, Crested
Guineafowl, Helmeted
Gulle, Common Black-headed
Gull, Grey-headed
Gull, Hartlaub’s
Gull, Kelp
Gull, Lesser Black-backed
Gull, Sabine’s
Gull, Slender-billed

Hamerkop
Harrier-hawk, African
Hawk, African Cuckoo
Helmet-shrike, Retz’s
Helmet-shrike, White-crested
Heron, Black-headed
Heron, Green-backed
Heron, Grey
Heron, Purple
Heron, Squacco
Honeyguide, Greater
Honeyguide, Scaly-throated
Hoopoe, Africa
Hornbill, African Grey
Hornbill, Crowned
Hornbill, Red-billed
Hornbill, Southern Yellow-billed
Hornbill, Trumpeter
House-martin, Common

Ibis, Glossy
Ibis, Hadeda
Indigobird, Dusky
Indigobird, Purple
Indigobird, Village

Jacana, African
Jaeger, Long-tailed
Jaeger, Pomarine

Kestrel, Lesser
Kingfisher, Brown-hooded
Kingfisher, Giant
Kingfisher, Grey-headed
Kingfisher, Half-collared
Kingfisher, Malachite
Kingfisher, Pied
Kingfisher, Striped
Kingfisher, Woodland
Kite, Black
Kite, Black-shouldered
Kite, Yellow-billed
Kittiwake, Black-legged
Knot, Red
Korhaan, Karoo
Korhaan, Northern Black
Korhaan, Red-crested
Korhaan, Rüppell's
Korhaan, Southern Black


Lapwing, African Wattled
Lapwing, Blacksmith
Lapwing, Crowned
Lapwing, White-crowned
Lark, Dune
Lark, Fawn-coloured
Lark, Large-billed
Lark, Monotonous
Lark, Red-capped
Lark, Rufous-naped
Lark, Sabota
Lark, Spike-heeled
Longclaw, Cape
Longclaw, Yellow-throated
Lovebird, Rosy-faced

Mallard
Mannikin, Bronze
Martin, Rock
Martin, Sand
Masked-weaver, Lesser
Masked-Weaver, Southern
Moorhen, Common
Mousebird, Red-faced
Mousebird, Speckled
Mousebird, White-backed
Myna, Common

Neddicky
Nicator, Eastern
Night-heron, Black-crowned
Nightjar, European
Nightjar, Fiery-necked
Nightjar, Square-tailed

Openbill, African
Oriole, Black-headed
Osprey
Ostrich, Common
Owl, Barn
Owlet, African Barred
Owlet, Pearl-spotted
Oxpecker, Red-billed
Oxpecker, Yellow-billed
Oystercatcher, African Black
Oystercatcher, Eurasian

Painted-snipe, Greater
Paradise-flycatcher, African
Parakeet, Rose-ringed
Parrot, Brown-headed
Parrot, Meyer’s
Parrot, Rüppell's
Penguin, African
Penguin, Gentoo
Penguin, King
Penguin, Magellanic
Penguin, Rockhopper
Petronia, Yellow-throated
Phalarope, Red
Pigeon, African Green
Pigeon, African Olive
Pigeon, Speckled
Pintail, Northern
Pipit, African
Pipit, Plain-backed
Plover, Chestnut-banded
Plover, Common Ringed
Plover, Little-ringed
Plover, Three-banded
Plover, White-fronted
Pochard, Southern
Pratincole, Collared
Prinia, Black-chested
Prinia, Karoo
Prinia, Tawny-flanked
Puffback, Black-backed
Pygmy-Goose, African
Pytilia, Green-winged

Quail, Common
Quelea, Red-billed

Rail, African
Raven, White-necked
Redshank, Common
Redshank, Spotted
Redstart, Common
Reed-warbler, Great
Reed-warbler, Eurasian
Robin-chat, Cape
Robin-chat, Red-capped
Robin-chat, White-browed
Robin-chat, White-throated
Rockrunner, Common
Rock-thrush, Cape
Rock-thrush, Sentinel
Roller, Broad-billed
Roller, European
Roller, Lilac-breasted
Roller, Purple
Ruff

Sandgrouse, Double-banded
Sandpiper, Baird’s
Sandpiper, Common
Sanpiper, Curlew
Sandpiper, Green
Sandpiper, Marsh
Sandpiper, Pectoral
Sandpiper, White-rumped
Sandpiper, Wood
Scimitarbill, Common
Scops-Owl, African
Scops-owl, Southern White-faced
Scrub-robin, Bearded
Scrub-robin, Kalahari
Scrub-robin, Karoo
Scrub-robin, White-browed
Seedeater, Streaky-headed
Shearwater, Cory’s
Shelduck, South African
Shikra
Shoveler, Cape
Shoveler, Northern
Shrike, Crimson-breasted
Shrike, Lesser Grey
Shrike, Magpie
Shrike, Red-backed
Shrike, Southern White-crowned
Shrike, White-tailed
Skimmer, African
Snake-eagle, Black-chested
Snipe, African
Sparrow, Cape
Sparrow, Great
Sparrow, House
Sparrow, Southern Grey-headed
Sparrowhawk, Little
Sparrow-weaver, White-browed
Spinetail, Mottled
Spurfowl, Hartlaub’s
Spurfowl, Natal
Spurfowl, Red-billed
Spurfowl, Red-necked
Spurfowl, Swainson’s
Starling, Black-bellied
Starling, Burchell’s
Starling, Common
Starling, Greater Blue-eared
Starling, Meves’s
Starling, Pale-winged
Starling, Pied
Starling, Red-winged
Starling, Violet-backed
Starling, Wattled
Stilt, Black-winged
Stint, Little
Stonechat, African
Stork, Black
Stork, Marabou
Storm-Petrel, European
Sugarbird, Cape
Sunbird, Amethyst
Sunbird, Dusky
Sunbird, Collared
Sunbird, Greater Double-collared
Sunbird, Malachite
Sunbird, Marico
Sunbird, Orange-breasted
Sunbird, Scarlet-chested
Sunbird, Southern, Double-collared
Sunbird, White-bellied
Swallow, Barn
Swallow, Lesser Striped
Swallow, Red-breasted
Swallow, Red-rumped
Swallow, White-throated
Swallow, Wire-tailed
Swamp-warbler, Lesser
Swan, Mute
Swift, Alpine
Swift, Common
Swift, Little
Swift, Pallid

Tchagra, Black-crowned
Tchagra, Brown-crowned
Tchagra, Southern
Tern, Antarctic
Tern, Arctic
Tern, Caspian
Tern, Common
Tern, Gull-billed
Tern, Little
Tern, Sandwich
Tern, Whiskered
Thick-knee, Spotted
Thick-knee, Water
Thrush, Groundscraper
Thrush, Karoo
Thrush, Kurrichane
Thrush, Palm
Tinkerbird, Yellow-fronted
Tinkerbird, Yellow-rumped
Tit, Southern Black
Tit-flycatcher, Grey
Trogon, Narina
Turaco, Purple-crested
Turnstone, Ruddy
Twinspot, Pink-throated

Vulture, White-backed

Wagtail, African Pied
Wagtail, Cape
Wagtail, Grey
Wagtail, Yellow
Warbler, Garden
Warbler, Sedge
Warbler, Willow
Waxbill, Black-faced
Waxbill, Blue
Waxbill, Common
Waxbill, Swee
Weaver, Cape
Weaver, Dark-backed
Weaver, Sociable
Weaver, Southern Brown-throated
Weaver, Spectacled
Weaver, Thick-billed
Weaver, Village
Wheatear, Capped
Whimbrel, Common
White-eye, Cape
White-eye, Orange River
Whitethroat, Common
Whydah, Pin-tailed
Widowbird, Fan-tailed
Widowbird, Long-tailed
Widowbird, Red-collared
Wood-dove, Emerald-spotted
Wood-hoopoe, Green
Wood-owl, African
Woodpecker, Bearded
Woodpecker, Bennett’s
Woodpecker, Cardinal
Woodpecker, Ground
Woodpecker, Golden-tailed
Woodpecker, Olive
Wryneck, Red-throated

Yellowlegs, Greater

[Lisbeth]

Why do birds sing?

The language of birds

Just as vowels and consonants provide the foundation for our words and sentences, birds produce a series of calls, songs and melodies in a ‘language’ so nuanced it could rival our very own alphabet! This is all thanks to a special vocal organ called the syrinx – the size of a pea, it sits at the junction of the trachea and the bronchi in the lungs. Its structure – which varies with each species – makes such different songs and sounds possible. Each sound has a different purpose and this, in turn, makes it possible for birds to communicate with each other in different circumstances.

The warning calls

These involve sharp and penetrating sounds – warning signals used by birds whenever they feel threatened and want to warn companions of danger. They are usually short sounds strong enough to be heard at great distances. The same sound is often used by predatory birds as part of their attack.

The cries for help

“Mom Mom Mom!” Just as children call for their mother with arms outstretched, small birds emit little moans and chirps to attract their mother’s attention, often flapping their wings for good measure. The call intensity is low, but it can still be clearly perceived in the vicinity of a nest. Small birds frequently continue to use these calls after leaving the nest too – because mom is always mom!

The contact calls

“Hey, are you all right?” Contact calls for birds are more or less the equivalent of us making sure a friend is ok. They use contact calls when they travel in flocks, want to call each other or even just share news about a good food source. These calls are characterised by moderately strong chirps, similar to a “hum” but not as penetrating as the warning calls.

The mid-flight calls

We have business calls – the ones where you use a more formal tone because etiquette demands it. Similarly, birds have specific calls that are only used during flight – and, interestingly, these are the most accurate calls to go by when trying to identify different species. These sounds are highly musical, especially when they announce the passage of flocks during migration season.

Why do birds sing at dawn?

The singing of birds in the morning signals a pleasant awakening. But why do birds usually showcase their vocal talents at this time of the day? The answer comes down to simple “vanity”: it is so they appear to be fit and healthy. Birds mainly feed during the day, so the early morning – when they are unfed and hungry – is when they are weakest. Singing at dawn is a technique used by males to prove their health and vigour to potential partners. No wonder: the singing is strictly linked to the birds’ “love life” and it is important throughout every stage of the relationship, from courtship to nest.

When the song becomes music

The lark’s morning song is not the only melody to have inspired poets and composers. Sweet birdsong has always touched the heart of man, inspiring verses and immortal music. Grieg, Ravel and Prokofiev, amongst others – have been so fascinated by the melody of blackbirds, nightingales and doves that they have turned their calls into music.

https://youtu.be/Tyu3MPIW9do
Vivaldi composed the famous “Goldfinch” concert while Girolamo Frescobaldi’s “Capriccio sopra Cucho” is a testament to the charms of the cuckoo. Beethoven famously incorporated imitations of the nightingale and quail – performed by flute and oboe respectively – in the second movement of the “Pastoral Symphony No. 6”. And Wagner notably included the song “The bird in the woods” in his opera ‘Siegfried’.

How you can learn to recognise birds by their song

Of course, the best way to learn how to recognise birds by their song is to go out into the great outdoors and simply listen to the most beautiful music ever made. The chorus that you can hear in a forest or a national park is a true symphony, especially for those able to grasp the nuances. For starters, it can be useful to have a handbook that – together with maps and photographs of the different species – explains the different vocal characteristics. But rest assured, with a little bit of practice and patience, anyone can unlock the secret of birdsong.

This article was first published in Italian on 03 Mar 2017 by LIPU (BirdLife in Italy) http://www.lipu.it/articoli-natura/8-oa ... li-cantano and has been translated by Alice Paone, Communications & Strategy Intern with BirdLife Europe & Central Asia.

[Mel]

Enjoyed reading this! They only forgot to include the answer to the question "Why do some species rant at dusk?"

And I would have chosen "Feedme Feedme Feedme" as an example of the cries for help

[Lisbeth]

The "feed me!" crossed my mind too

[Lisbeth]

By Don Pinnock• 25 May 2020


Werner van Greuning for Unsplash

Because it’s been with us since the beginning of time, bird music always seems somehow right – except, perhaps, when it comes from a hadeda. But that could be our fault.

The first music our species ever heard was undoubtedly the songs of birds. Feathered mini-dinosaurs have been trilling from trees for much longer than there have been human ears to hear them – and the songs they sing still inspire us.

The melodies of many great composers were filched from birds and, today, with recording equipment or a good musical ear, their violation of avian copyright can be detected. The famous opening bars of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 is a direct crib from the white-breasted wood wren and the beginning of his Violin Concerto in D, Opus 61, is from a blackbird. At the end of the second movement of his Pastoral Symphony, a clarinet does the perfect imitation of a cuckoo. In fact, his music is littered with birdsong.


White-breasted wood wren (Image by Robin Brace for Flickr)


Cuckoo (Image by Ian Wood-Thompson for Flickr)

The thrilling cascade at the opening of Chopin’s extraordinary Etude in C Minor is, note for note, that of the canyon wren. Olivier Messiaen’s flute piece Le merle noir was based entirely on the song of the blackbird and his orchestral work, Réveil des oiseaux, is blended from the dawn bird chorus in the Jura Mountains of the composer’s native France.


Merle Noir – Blackbird (Image by Richard Holding for Flickr)

Messiaen began this focus while interred in a Nazi prison camp in 1940 while composing The Quartet for the End of Time, his first piece to make use of birdsong and one of his greatest. Years later, he wrote: “In my hours of gloom, when every musical idiom appears to me as no more than admirable painstaking experimentation, what is left for me but to seek out the true face of music somewhere off in the forest, among the birds.”

Composer Jonathan Harvey has combined recordings of bird songs, their pitch and rhythm lowered and slowed down, in his Piano Concerto with Birdsong.

In Stravinsky are patterns that match a bird from the region where he worked. Mozart used the song of his pet starling in a concerto (birds reportedly like listening to his music). Vivaldi wrote a concerto to a goldfinch and birdsong can be identified in the works of Mahler, Delius, Ravel, Wagner and many others.


Starling (Image by Dave Harrison for Flickr)

Our debt to birdsong may go deeper than this, however. In Kerala, southern India, Brahmans teach their sons sacred mantras that are not any known language and are said to go back to “before time”. A researcher from Berkeley University in the US, Frits Staal, found their sound patterns related to birdsong and nothing else. He proposed that the mantras come from a pre-language era and that human speech may have developed in imitation of birdsong.

At least 20% of birds are what’s termed open-ended learners – they innovate. The blackbird, for example, starts his song at the beginning of spring with a number of simple phrases that he elaborates over the next three months, by which time he’s composed a substantial musical piece. The following year, it will be a different song. There’s no scientific explanation as to why he does this, other than because he can and because he enjoys singing.

Birds, however, also imitate our sounds – and are changing their tune because of us. Some do it by direct mimicry and top of the class is not the parrot, but the Australian lyrebird. They can seemingly imitate any sound in their pursuit of a new tune to attract a mate: the clicking of cameras, chainsaws, drills and car sirens.


Australian Lyrebird (Image Flickr)

In 1969, ranger Sydney Curtis heard a lyrebird producing flute sounds in New England National Park on the coast of New South Wales. After some sleuthing, he discovered that in the 1930s, a neighbouring farmer had played the flute for a pet lyrebird which had then escaped. When ornithologist Norman Robinson studied the call, he discovered that males in the area were singing two popular songs from the period: The Keel Row and Mosquito’s Dance – 70 years later.

But we’re also limiting birdsong with our noise. Biologists at the University of Leiden in the Netherlands, Hans Slabbekoorn and Ardie den Boer-Visser, found that birds in cities are changing their songs. They’re speeding up their tunes by shortening the first note and pauses while dropping the low notes.

The reason, they found, is that the sonorous dawn and dusk mating song of the red-blooded male broadcasting his readiness to breed is being lost in the deep growl of rush-hour traffic. What’s getting the attention of females is instead the geeky peeps of a new generation of hipsters with an ear for the right pitch. This has happened in the past 30 years and the new dialects are trickling back into the countryside.

Male birds sing to defend their territory and demonstrate their breeding fitness to an attentive female. The more varied their repertoire, the greater their chance of luring a mate. Low notes are lost in the traffic, but frequencies that are too high bounce off the hard surfaces of buildings and confuse. So urban sexual selection favours the mezzo-sopranos.


Mikell Darling for Unsplash

Which brings me to the hadeda. In almost any Southern African city these days, dawn breaks to their high-pitched shriek. They were once heard in only the forested areas of the Great Rift Valley, but are now everywhere – even Cape Town.

I was high in the Simien Mountains overlooking the Rift in Ethiopia one day when the hadeda’s closest relative, the wattled ibis, landed in a tree near me. But instead of going ha-eek-ah, it went aah-grr very deeply and looked around, as these birds do, for applause.

Now the version around where I live is that hadedas go ha-eek-ah as they fly because they’re afraid of heights. But a more likely reason is that all they’re trying to do is be heard above the roar of traffic. It’s not music to our ears, but who can blame them?

[Richprins]

But a more likely reason is that all they’re trying to do is be heard above the roar of traffic.

Nonsense! They should be shot, IMO!

[Lisbeth]

Please be more tolerant, they are not that bad